


Working Late

by Ellie226



Series: Mark/El [16]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Play, Daddy Kink, Discipline, F/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:36:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie226/pseuds/Ellie226
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>El has designated work hours, but sometimes, they just aren't enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Late

The phone rang, and I looked at the caller ID. It was Daddy. Again. I hit the button to reject the call. 

I put my hands back on my keyboard and tried to focus on what I was writing, but my concentration was shattered by my phone vibrating. He had called 9 times in the last hour. I was never going to finish this report. 

I needed to get this work done. I was so behind on writing reports and filing paperwork, but I could never find the time during the day when I was stuck answering the phone, going to court, and visiting clients. Not to mention the interminable meetings.

I ran into a snag when I called Daddy at 2:00. I was in the car on my way back from a hearing that had spilled over into the afternoon and completely screwed my day. 

“Hi Daddy!” I tried to make my voice sound as upbeat as possible.

“Hey Baby. Everything okay?”

It was a reasonable question. Although we had discussed at length the need for me to call when I got upset, I still only called him during work hours if I had a big problem that GrownUpWorkEllie could not handle. It had happened maybe 5 times in the last year. 

“Um, yeah. I’m just a little behind? You know that hearing I told you about last night? It ran really late.”

His voice was calm and patient when he responded, with the same things he always said. “You can only get done what you can get done. It’s okay if you don’t make it through your whole list for the day.”

I didn’t need to be reassured. I needed permission to work late. Keeping my voice level so Daddy didn’t feel like I was overwhelmed, I figured I should just ask now. “I know. If I stay late tonight though, it’s really going to make things a lot easier tomorrow. You know the office is dead after 5:00, and the quiet really helps me work...” I trailed off, hoping for the best.

“Sweetheart, how many hours have you worked so far this week?” 

I hated when he asked that. It’s not like he didn’t watch even more closely than I did. I wanted to play dumb, but I knew he knew. “Um, it’s Thursday, and I’ve only worked like 39 hours so far. If I could just stay till 7:00, I can finish everything and then I’ll be a lot more relaxed.”

Ignoring my plea for more time, he responded, “the way I count, it’s more like 41 hours. You fielded that call on Sunday night, remember?”

“That shouldn’t count! That was an emergency.”

“Was it work?”

“Yes,” I conceded.

“And how many hours are you supposed to work?”

“Between 40 and 45, but I really need to stay late tonight Daddy. It’s not that much more.” I could hear myself begging. I really needed this time.

“Sweetheart, even if you only work a half day tomorrow, it’s still more hours than we talked about.”

“I can’t work a half day tomorrow Daddy! I’ve got way too much to do.” 

“I understand that Princess, and I’m not saying you have to leave work early tomorrow. I understand that sometimes you can’t plan for for the things that come up. But, I’m also not going to tell you that you can work extra hours tonight. You don’t need to do that.”

I was rubbing one hand on my skirt, trying to keep myself calm. “No Daddy, I really need to work the extra hours. I promise, I’ll leave by 7:00; it would only be 2 extra hours.”

“Sweetheart, it’s 2 extra hours that mean you’ll be working in excess of 50 hours this week. No.”

“I need to. It’s going to stress me out if I don’t get these reports done.”

“No.”

I hated when he got like that. No more discussion, just refusing a reasonable request. “Pleeeeease? I promise I’ll work less next week. I could take Monday off? It would even out Daddy, I swear.”

“Eleanor, the answer is no. I expect you to leave the office at 5:00. End of discussion. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“Yes, but I don’t like it. I need-”

He cut me off, “you need to listen to Daddy and do what you’re told. Now, I’m leaving at 5:30 like usual, and I’ll see you at 6:00. You need to be at home by 5:30 like we agreed.”

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can. And you’re going to.”

“No,” I protested.

“Excuse me? I don’t think I heard you right.”

“I really need to work the hours Daddy. Please?”

“I understand that you want to work late tonight, but I’m saying no. The only thing you need to do is follow our rules.”

“Fine,” I ground out.

“And Eleanor, just so we’re clear, if you don’t leave the office at 5:00, there will be consequences. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you Princess. I love you, and I’ll see you by 6:00.”

“Bye,” I hit the button to end the call, perhaps a bit harder than absolutely necessary, and then I tossed the phone in the passenger seat. Then I went back to my office, focusing on finishing as much as possible by 5:00.

When the alarm on my phone rang at 5:00, I shut it off, then looked at my desk. I was so close to finishing what I was working on, and my desk was a mess. If I worked until 5:30, I could still get home before Daddy, and I’d probably be able to finish the report I had started and clean up my desk. 

Biting my lip, I considered my options. I could go home now; that would be the option that Daddy wanted me to go with. I could stay until 5:30 and get home before Daddy still. It had the potential to work. Nodding resolutely, I reset the alarm on my phone to 5:25 and went back to work.

When the alarm on my phone rang, I had finished the report and started clearing my desk. But it was really better if I came into a clean desk in the morning. Leaving it half-done would stress me out. Plus, I had gotten a few emails that I really wanted to address before I went home...

I told myself sternly that I only had 5 minutes to finish, and then I had to leave. But by the time I actually managed to clear my desk and answer the now 7 emails I wanted to handle (not to mention logging the contacts, printing the emails, and putting them in the appropriate files), it was 5:57.

There was absolutely no way that I’d beat Daddy home now. I could rush home and claim I’d stopped to pick something up, which was also against the rules but not as strictly enforced as the work rules. I’d probably get away with a token spanking and maybe a time-out, but if Daddy figured out I’d stayed late I would be in really big trouble for lying and disobeying him. I could rush home and beg forgiveness, which would definitely lead to a spanking and probably some lines.

Or, I could stay. I was already going to get spanked. I drummed my fingers on my desk for a minute, then made my decision.

The calls started almost immediately after that. I almost answered the first time; answering the phone when Daddy called, assuming I wasn’t in a meeting, was an important rule. I’d only broken it once, and I’d never done it again. The spanking itself hadn’t been that bad, but I hadn’t been allowed out of Daddy’s sight for an entire weekend, and the lecture was awful.

I managed to stop myself from picking up my phone, but he kept calling. Finally, I decided to just turn the phone off. I resigned myself to being in massive amounts of trouble, and I figured I might as well do whatever I wanted at this point.

I finally shut off my computer at 7:00. I’d managed to get my to do list done, and I’d cleared my desk. I was still behind, but it was more manageable now. 

It was time to go home. I sat at my desk for another five minutes, trying to make myself stand up and leave. Now that I was actually going to have to see Daddy, my decision to stay at work was seeming like maybe not the best choice I’d made that day...

I forced myself to stand up and leave. On the drive home, I kept rehearsing my explanation in my head. I loved Daddy, but I was a grown up. Sometimes, I had to make my own decisions. Work was one of those things that I really knew more about than he did, and he needed to trust my judgement.

The thirty minute drive seemed much shorter than usual. Daddy was waiting for me at the door. “Where’s your phone Eleanor?” he sounded angry, and all of my adult reasons for working late poofed. He was actually angry, and that was rare. I was thinking that he was going to view me working late in not quite the same light I had.

“In my bag,” I told him, searching to find it. When I pulled it out, he snatched it from my hand.

“Do you want to tell me why it’s off?”

That was clearly not a request. My stomach was churning.

“Ummmm, it’s off because,” I paused, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. Finding none, I decided to go with the truth. “I turned it off.”

“Why?” his tone was clipped.

“Because you kept calling and I couldn’t concentrate,” I looked at the floor. That sounded a lot worse when I said it.

“Go wash your hands,” he told me, pointing toward the kitchen. “I’m going to assume you haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

I hesitantly went into the kitchen and washed my hands. Then, I sat at the counter as directed. He turned on my lamp and handed me a turkey sandwich and some grapes. 

“Eat.” One word commands; that was never good.

I quickly forced myself to eat, trying to show that I was following his directions. I even drank the whole glass of milk without complaint. When I was done, he took the plate and glass back and washed them. Leaning against the counter, he began talking.

“Do you know how worried I was when you weren’t here when I got home? I had no idea where you were.”

I tried to defend myself. “I’m an adult Mark; I needed to do something and I couldn’t be home at a certain time.”

“No, you chose not to be. In direct defiance of what I told you to do. And even if I hadn’t told you to come home, it is inexcusably rude that you didn’t bother calling or letting me know where you were, not to mention that you then ignored my calls.”

I looked down at the counter, blushing hotly. Phrased like that, it did sound bad. I tried to explain, “I just really needed the time at work. And you said no, but I really needed to stay late. If I had answered my phone, you would have made me come home.”

“Yes I would have. Because we decided that you work at set times.”

“You did,” I complained bitterly, under my breath.

“Fine Eleanor, I did. I decided that you were going to work less than 46 hours a week because you would work 14 hour days 7 days a week if I let you. It’s not good for you. Your job is stressful; you need to have time to recharge. We both know what happens when you work too much. Remember last year?”

Last year, before when Mark was Mark and not Daddy. I nodded begrudgingly. 

“I’d like to hear you say it please.”

“I remember.”

“Remember what?”

I sighed and barely managed to restrain myself from rolling my eyes. I hated it when he made me do this. “I got bronchitis, and then I ended up with pneumonia because I didn’t have time to go to the doctor or stay home from work.”

“Close. You got bronchitis because you let yourself get run down and you’re constantly surrounded by germy kids. Then, your bronchitis went into pneumonia because you chose to not go to the doctor or stay home from work.”

I shrugged. That was basically what I’d said.

“So, the question is what we’re going to do about this,” he looked at me closely, then continued. “I hope you got a lot of work done tonight because you’re flexing out tomorrow. You can text Sarah and tell her you won’t be in.”

“No! I have to go in. I’m sorry I didn’t come home, but I can’t lose eight hours of work just because I stayed two hours late.”

“You can and you will. You know the rules about working Eleanor; you’ve hit your hours for this week and now you’re done working. I’m sorry if that upsets you.”

I whined a little at that. I wouldn’t have stayed late if I thought this is what would happen.

“The next two weeks, you’re allowed to work 40 hours period; I tried to give you some extra time because I know that you’re used to working more, but that’s a privilege, and you’ve lost it. I think you weighed the consequences and decided that getting a spanking was worth it if you got to do what you wanted. That’s not the way this works; I decide what the punishment is, and I think losing out on work hours is going to be a better reminder. As for the deliberate defiance, you know very well how we deal with that, and we’ll discuss the cell phone problem when we’re done.” Holding out a hand, he led me to the bedroom where he pulled the spoon out. 

“Not the spoon! It wasn’t that bad Daddy!”

“You decided you didn’t like what I told you and you were going to disobey me. I’m not going to spank you with just my hand like this was nothing; you don’t get to pick and choose what rules you follow.”

I started crying as he pulled my skirt up and yanked my tights down. Helping me across his lap, I could feel my panties and tights bunched at my knees. I waited apprehensively for the spanking to start.

I didn’t have to wait long. He started out with his hand, but he quickly switched over to the spoon. Once I was really wiggling, he began talking again.

“Why are we here?”

“I didn’t listen,” I cried out, trying to move away. 

“That’s right. And why is that not allowed?”

“Because you make the rules-Daddy!!!” I shrieked at a particularly stinging smack, “That huuuuuuurts! I’m sorrrrry.”

“It’s supposed to hurt Eleanor Rose. You deliberately disobeyed me, and I don’t want to see that again. Do you understand me?” he punctuated what he was saying by painfully applying the spoon across my bottom and down my thighs.

“Yessssssss. I won’t.” I cried. It hurt a lot. 

When Daddy finally stopped, I sighed in relief. He helped me to stand up and take off my tights the rest of the way, and then he hugged me.

We stayed together for several minutes, Daddy still sitting on the bed and me standing up. I had one hand behind my back, rubbing at my stinging backside, but my other arm was wrapped around Daddy. 

When I finally stopped crying enough to listen, he started talking again. 

“Are you ready to take your bath Princess?” I would never understand how he could switch so easily between being so mean and stern and then so solicitous.

“You said we had to talk about the phone,” my voice was muffled from being pressed against his shoulder. I didn’t want to talk about it, but I didn’t want to wait the rest of the night to find out what he was going to do.

“I did,” he agreed. “Do you want to do that now or should we finish your bath first?”

“Now,” I said. 

“Come here then, let’s sit down together,” he took my hand and we went to our chair, where he pulled me into his lap.

“How would you feel if I didn’t answer the phone and I wasn’t where I said I was going to be?” Even though his voice sounded calm and matter of fact, I could feel tears stinging my eyes again.

“Bad,” I managed to choke out.

“Probably a little scared too, huh?”

I nodded, not making eye contact.

“It’s flat-out rude and unacceptable to not acknowledge my calls, but I could deal with that. If I was just upset that you hadn’t answered the phone because it’s rude, I would spank you and we’d be done. But we have those rules for safety. Your job is dangerous; you have to have your phone available and let someone know if your plans change so we realize if there’s a problem.”

I nodded, my chin wobbling. 

“So, you’re grounded for a month. The only place you go without me is work. I’ll be calling you to check in, and you had better answer me. If you’re not at work and not with me, you will be at home. You’re going to pack a lunch and eat at the office every day. No going out with your colleagues.”

I nodded again, although I now felt more upset than guilty. A whole month just for two hours didn’t seem fair.

“When we’re both here, you’re going to be spending all of your time with me. And, since you’ll be home by 5:30 most nights and I don’t get home until 6:00, you’re going to spend that time sitting at the counter and writing lines. I expect at least 250 a week from now until your grounding is over.”

“That’ll take forever!” I protested.

“It’s only a thousand. If they’re not done by the end of the month, I can always extend your grounding.”

“Not fair,” I pouted.

“I”m sorry you feel that way. Are you ready to take a bath?”

“I can do it myself,” I retorted, jerking myself up off his lap. I managed to get two steps away before he grabbed my arm and jerked me back, swatting me several times.

“Did you enjoy being spanked Eleanor?” his tone had cooled considerably, and he punctuated his question with another smack.

“Noooooooo,” I stood in front of him, forcing myself to remain still and not stomp my foot.

“Do you want another spanking before bed tonight?” he asked, spanking me again.

“Nooooooo Daddy.”

“Are you going to do what I tell you then?”

I hung my head at that, “yes Daddy.”

“Thank you Baby,” he stood up and lead me into the bathroom. As he was filling the tub, I resolved to try to listen better. At least for the rest of the night.


End file.
